


Sua Sponte

by Nebulad



Series: De Jure [2]
Category: Tyranny (Video Game)
Genre: F/M, Pining, accidental anarchy path, the companions watch a weird high intensity trainwreck
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-18
Updated: 2019-04-18
Packaged: 2020-01-15 18:52:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,852
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18504988
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nebulad/pseuds/Nebulad
Summary: Noor contemplates what to do as both Ashe and Nerat turn their backs on her; luckily she has someone watching out for her in the shadows, if he doesn't get her killed first.





	Sua Sponte

“Not trying to be the voice of reason here, boss, but what  _ exactly  _ is our plan?” Verse asked, wiping the blood on her dagger off on her thigh. As it turned out, Chorus really did bleed red; the Fatebinder had proven it by turning on her allies, although at the very  _ utterance  _ of ally, Noor had snarled from behind her mask.

_ Nerat was not her ally.  _ He never had been; he was simply the only Archon willing to come to the table after Velendrien’s Well.  _ She was not a Chorus soldier. _ When he had asked her to not only keep Stalwart under the oppression of the Edict, but to hand him Amelia and therefore exacerbate the civil conflict?  _ In the direct defiance of the will of The Court? _

He was  _ no  _ ally of hers, and her letter to Tunon justifying her decision was the harshest tone she’d ever taken with her Archon.

“We’re going to pick up Sirin,” she snapped, muffled behind the snarling visage of her mask. Her four companions eyed each other uncertainly. “Barik, surely you won’t mind a break after so long in Stalwart?” Her voice was still tight and irritable, so Barik didn’t protest. He approved, really, of her refusal to endanger Amelia… it was only a question of what she was going to do instead of taking advantage of the Chorus, when Graven Ashe still refused to speak with her.

Suddenly, she stopped. Her friends looked frantically to each other, having a silent argument while she watched the path in front of them with her metaphorical hackles prickling. Wordlessly deciding that Lantry was the only one who hadn’t risked words with her yet, the old scarecrow staggered forward. “Uh...— Fatebinder?” he asked.

“Did Tunon send you?” she demanded into open air, as if she hadn’t heard him.

“How long do we have to let her go like this before we can mercy kill her?” Verse whispered loudly to her brother, who glared back with characteristic stoic disapproval. Before he could really let her have it for insubordination though, there was a hiss and a ghostly groan as black tendrils curled into their way from the bushes.

“Would you have seen me if he had?” asked a formless voice, and as quickly as it had materialized it lunged towards the Fatebinder. All three companion cried out, but her hand raised to stop them even as the shadows took the form of a man with his hand on her throat. “Or would you be bleeding from your  _ neck _ instead of chatting?”

“Noor,” Verse hissed, and the Fatebinder waved irritably. 

“Can I have my  _ neck  _ back?” she asked, and a chuckle echoed through Bleden Mark like he was hollow on the inside.

“Only because you asked me so nice.” He was sure to release her slowly, and she in turn kept his gaze steadily until she was free. He didn’t bother to step out of her space, but neither did she seem to notice the ground she’d lost by his presence. “I’d say it’s good to see you again Noor, but I prefer to lie by omission,” he offered with a toothy smile.

“You’ll break my heart,” she returned, and as always her covered lower face gave no indication of whether or not that was a joke. Verse had heard a rumour in the Bastard City that the Headsman was the only one who’d seen her without the mask before.

“Ah ah—  _ think  _ before you speak next. I’d hate to have to kill you.” Something in Noor’s body language changed; hardened, almost, tensed even further than what her companions had assumed was her peak rigidity.

Lantry almost didn’t think the assassin noticed himself mirror her. “What do you want, Mark?” she asked coldly, their postures taking on a sort of synchronistic grace. It was lovely, but for the sudden awareness of his own mortality.

“What do  _ I  _ want? Uh, I’m curious— what is it that  _ you  _ want?” he asked without breaking their mirror. “I’ve got my own assumptions but since you  _ are  _ a member of the Court, I thought it best to ask directly before I opened your guts.”

“How kind,” she offered wryly.

_ “You  _ sided with Nerat and I figured I’d have to  _ stab  _ that delusion out of you— but then lo and behold, you came to your own senses and quit selling your power out to that neckless freak.” Barik was taken aback when Noor’s posture changed again; he knew the stance, the one of someone who’d been unexpectedly complimented by a superior. Bleden Mark didn’t comment. “You freed yourself from the distraction of allies— just enemies with greater patience— and made your own way.” He sounded approving, then his eyes flitted from her to her team. “Present company excluded, of course.”

“What do you mean by  _ my own way?” _ That was confirmation enough for her friends that she really hadn’t had a plan for when they returned to the Mountain Spire.

He gave that haunted, echoing laugh again. “Besides this merry band you’ve cobbled together, you’re not exactly crawling with friends right now kid. You could try and hash it out from here on your own, but the Archons will keep hunting you; or, you could take a little help from the shadows, make it so that they can’t kill you without breaking a sweat, and maybe live to see the next several hundred years.”

That struck all of them dumb, and the headsman was pleased that he could still throw Noor off so completely that her guard shattered like glass on the ground at her feet. She  _ gaped  _ at him, staying silent long enough that he was going to prod her. “Why would you  _ help  _ me?” she asked, not quite able to keep her voice even.

“Boredom. Loyalty to the Court. To  _ use  _ you for a few errands…” He grinned. “That’s more upfront than even Tunon will be with you, Noor. Anyone who doesn’t tell you want they want is lacking in either initiative or honesty.” Maybe that was too much, because she settled down again when she heard their familiar routine. He was still teaching her, unable to resist propping her up to try and keep her from falling; and she was so fucking determined to fall anyway.

“And you want me to trust you?” she demanded, and he scowled; the ground darkened at his feet and Lantry made a hasty retreat behind the eager killer and the iron-spiked wall for safety.

“Kid, I have shown you twenty-seven spots on the human body where life can be extinguished. I’ve made  _ sure  _ you know the ins and outs of every blade, cudgel, and pointed tool forged under Kyros’  _ blazing  _ sun. If you  _ still  _ don’t trust me after all these years, then who do you trust?” Verse watched incredulously as Noor went  _ doe-eyed.  _ She softened like a corpse in the sun, and put her hands up for peace; in the end, it wasn’t even the speech that convinced her of his intentions, but how  _ angry  _ he was at the thought that she didn’t believe him.

Some might have called his expression  _ hurt,  _ but she was a little smarter than that.

“So what do I do, Mark?” she asked, and he retreated. Cobbling together more composure than before, he gave her a conspiratory look that made Barik’s skin crawl.

“If you want your freedom from the Archons, you need to become something less easy to murder. You start collecting relics from around the Tiers, and  _ maybe  _ you have a fighting chance.” She nodded faintly, the breadth of her situation closing in on her. “And I can think of worse ways to face at least two oncoming armies than with a giant legendary sword.”

She gave him a look that made him laugh, which made the world tilt strangely for Barik. The Disfavoured were beloved of Graven Ashe and still he could not picture such a level of wordless intimacy. He wondered, privately, what their training sessions had been like. “I’ll try not to insult your teaching skills when I say that a giant sword won’t be of much use to me,” she said, shaking her head.

“You couldn’t possibly wield all the relics at once anyway. I’ll wager at least one of your ridiculous  _ gang—”  _ and that was meant to tease her still for siding with Nerat for so fucking long, “—will be able to make use of what you can’t.”

She thought on it for a moment, looking pensive as he explained to her about the sword and the location and who she should expect to run into. If her rapid response was any indication, she’d barely been listening at all. “So I’ll… go find this sword then, and hope it at least makes the Archons less eager to kill me?”

“You’ve got it.” On cue, Bleden Mark began fading out of the light. Lantry noted Noor’s suddenly clenched fists, stuttering on the impulse to reach out for his incorporeal form.

“Including Tunon?” she asked with no small amount of regret.

“I told you, if he wanted you dead you’d be dead; no, he just doesn’t have a preference that you live.” She turned to the ground, her face still unreadable. “I do though, kid. Try not to embarass me out there.” With that, he was blown away on the next breeze while light and air returned to the surrounding area. None of them had realized how smoke-choked he’d smelled.

“Well that was fucking weird.” Not the way Verse had thought this war was gunna go, honestly. Strictly speaking she fucking hated the subterfuge approach without exception; but when the official headsman to Kyros’ Court was the one suggesting it, she had to assume that she’d get a  _ little  _ slaughter out of the bargain.

“We have a plan, now; it is more than we had before, and it avoids direct conflict with the other armies.” And by that, of course, Barik meant he was relieved that aside from some outlier cases, he’d no longer be expected to kill his sibling soldiers. He’d have plenty of time to deconstruct what he’d seen between the Fatebinder and the Archon somewhere private, so he could be properly mortified at the very thought.

Lantry, meanwhile, watched Noor as he always did. Her eyes were glued to the spot her mentor had disappeared at, and her expression had an uncharacteristic lack of complexity. She was a person who seemed to be constantly mulling something over in silence, but as she stared forward she looked glossy and blank, like she’d been stricken senseless.

Well, he was old; not stupid. He rather expected she had been.

“We’ll go pick up Sirin first,” she said, so faintly that Lantry had to gesture the others over. She looked like she wanted to say more, but all they got was a vague gesture forwards before she took off down the path they’d been following.

It was hard to tell whether or not the Headsman’s support would remain a boon, but it was the unanimous unspoken opinion of Noor’s companions that she’d found her side of the war.

**Author's Note:**

> [Here's my game dev blog](http://heart-forge.tumblr.com), where I write text-based games for you to play. Available to play right now are: Manor Hill, a mystery dating sim, and Bad Ritual, an urban fantasy dating sim. You can see the pattern for yourself.
> 
> I really don't know what to tell you about this one. It's not my favourite but I was thinking of Bleden Mark and good goddamn there is not a lot of fic for this game so if I have to make some then I have to make some !! I know the companion povs are a bit odd and jumpy and I don't quite remember what I was going for as a whole except that I just wanted to show that Bleden Mark and Noor are weird and everyone knows it and is duly uncomfortable.


End file.
